Cruelest of All
by Kayleen756894
Summary: Inspired from the look of horror on Cinder's face in Season 4, Episode 11, as she watched Tyrian mutilate a beowolf. Cinder questions what it means to be evil and whether it even matters anymore if she is or not. Maybe only one person's opinion matters, and that doesn't have to be her own. Dark. Cinder-centric with a hint of Emberald.


**A/N: Hey everyone! So this is probably one of the more darker works of fiction I have done in my lifetime. It was inspired from that look of fear and shock on Cinder's face when she saw Tyrian savagely mutilate that Grimm in Season 4, Episode 11, and it just... it really shook me. We've never seen Cinder have a look on her like that, EVER. It was so different from how confidently and mysteriously she presented herself so it inspired me to write this. I really wanted to show her level of depression, anxiety, humiliation and confusion she is no doubt dealing with after being disabled from Ruby's attack. Even more so than that, I wanted to show her internal debate of what she believed her definition of evil was, or at least used to believe, because after seeing her face when she saw what Tyrian did, it showed that even Cinder has a spec of mercy in her.**

 **On top of that, this was inspired from The Monty Oum Project. It's been over two years since we lost Monty and I know everyone in this fandom will always miss him dearly. He always wanted us to be creative and this project, on Feb 4th 2017, was about starting something new, like writing the first page of a story or finally sitting down to start a drawing. When I heard about this I got really inspired and just decided to write this fic, and now I'm here to give it to you all. Hopefully this can inspire others to unleash their creative passions as well :)**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing of RWBY and this was written for entertainment purposes only!**

 **Enjoy everyone!**

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 **Cruelest of All**

Her bedroom was large, too large, and she immediately crossed it to lay her hand on the window. Her right hand, of course. Her left stopped obeying her commands months ago.

Obeying. Commands.

She glided her fingertip over the glass pane, spelling those two words with invisible ink. She was a commander, wasn't she? Didn't people follow her orders?

They used to. She wasn't sure anymore. One of them was dead. Another was missing. Only two remained and it barely felt like she owned them anymore.

She rested her palm flat on the glass, enjoying the cold sensation because at least she could feel it. She stared out the window, down at the ashen hills and mountains, up at the ghostly red and violet sky. Her depth perception had improved. She was thankful. It was a small miracle, but it would probably save what remained of her life one day. But for now, all it enhanced was her capability to register that this place was volcanic; cursed; evil. The land outside her room, this building, and all the people in it. Volcanic. Cursed. Evil.

 _Evil._

Her tongue swept around in her mouth as she silently repeated that word to herself. She barely had the ability to speak anymore and didn't want to waste her energy speaking to her marred reflection, but the word meant something sacred to her and she was hoping if she let the word consume her tongue, her mouth, her breath, her soul, she would remember why it struck her so deeply.

She was evil. She was, wasn't she? Wasn't there a time when so many people saw her that way? Wasn't there a time so many people thought she was the most evil person in the world?

It made her feel powerful and feared, just like she always wanted. But those people were fools.

There was always someone more evil. So much more evil.

Cinder shuttered, holding a hand to her chest to keep herself calm enough under Salem's intrusions in her thoughts that she wouldn't break into a coughing fit. She hated those. The pain and dryness and lack of motor control made her feel weak; vulnerable. On the bad days she would cough up blood along with her dignity.

They would all watch her. They would be sitting at that table, at Salem's throne, and Salem would demand her to speak and Cinder wouldn't be able to find her voice. She would cough, and hack, and spit up blood, and no one would voice anything other than Emerald's soft, naive concern, but Salem, Watts, Tyrian and Hazel would all be watching her. They would wait until after she suffered, until after she shoved Emerald's gentle hand from her shoulder, and then Tyrian would laugh; Hazel would shake his head; Watts would toss poised insults like daggers; and worst of all, Salem would stare at her like she was nothing but a mere insect. A pawn.

Cinder was no pawn. She wasn't. She wasn't a pawn. She was better than that. She was a queen. She refused to be accepted as anything less. She was powerful, and manipulative, and evil.

But Salem was more evil. Salem was always fated to be queen.

Cinder's eye suddenly stung. She wasn't sure which one. Was it the one that could still see this cursed world or the one that couldn't? She barely felt anything other than anger and exhaustion anymore, so even a slight ache was more interesting than it was annoying. She kept looking out the window but her gaze was fixated on herself; her eyes, the one golden glint and the other hidden by her dark hair and an even darker mask. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel at the sight, so she didn't feel at all.

She didn't remember losing the eye. Nor did she remember losing the length of her hair, or her voice, or all feeling in her left arm. All she really remembered was white. A bright white light produced from the little jewel's silver eyes that enveloped everything. It completely consumed Cinder, corrupted her, violated her, until only a broken woman remained, whose only form of comfort was to cling to an evil she wasn't even sure she still was.

Was she still evil? She still felt anger. She still held power. A stolen power. A power meant to be the Fall Maiden's, but now it was hers. She killed two young women in order to get this power. That made her evil, right?

Such thoughts used to make her feel intimidating. In control.

Now she felt nothing. Why was she evil again? Was there ever a point? She wanted to be the girl with power. The girl that was feared. She had that. She was sure, even now, after everything was stripped away from her, that many people still envisioned her as this powerful, fearsome warlord.

Should that make her happy? Or satisfied? Or aroused? Or anything? It probably should. But it didn't.

Nothing was like how it was before. Once Salem showed her face again, Cinder was forced to accept way too early that she was never in charge. That this fight was never about her. That she was never the most powerful, or the most feared, or the most evil.

She was just Cinder. Nothing else. No titles. No accomplishments. Just a woman with a useless eye, a useless arm, a useless voice, and a useless future.

Cinder let out a soft breath and closed her velvet curtains, not wanting to see out her window anymore. She slowly turned on her heel and tiredly observed her room; all hues of red, black and purple. The queen sized bed had blankets with golden embroideries. The vanity was composed of elegant black wood with an upholstered stool and her dresser of dark, glossy cherrywood. She had no pictures or mementos or anything unique that would prove she was alive. All she had were her dresses, her heels, her furniture, and her room.

It was still too large. She didn't like it. Didn't need it. It was too open. Made her feel vulnerable. There was too much space here; too much room for useless thoughts to wander around. She would prefer a much smaller room, one that could barely fit a bed and a dresser, so she could feel alone and safe in such a confined space. Nothing would bother her there. Not even her thoughts.

But life wasn't that simple, nor should it be, and Cinder was still trapped in her large room, the vastness reminding her of earlier that day in the training hall where streaks of Grimm blood painted the marble floor and walls after Tyrian continuously ripped its jugular to pieces. He had failed in his mission to bring back the little jewel and Salem had degraded him. For a moment, Cinder thought she was going to kill him. Good riddance.

But she didn't. Instead, all she did was express her disappointment and walk away. But Cinder knew that wound would slice Tyrian deeper than any other.

Tyrian had already lost so much of his sanity that Cinder would hesitate to refer to him as a man or a faunus or even a person, but his wails as Salem walked away without looking back and his maniacal laughter as he unleashed himself on that Beowolf was so loud, so piercing, Cinder could swear she could still hear it vibrating off the walls in her bedroom.

It was way too big. Tyrian's voice would echo in here, just like in the training hall. Cinder could barely speak anymore. No need for big rooms where voices could echo.

That scene was much more than just pitiful, though. It was terrifying. It was cruel.

 _Cruel._

Cinder tasted that word again because it felt weird. The tingles it left on her tongue and lips didn't feel right. She shouldn't be saying that word. There was no need to. Except there was, or it wouldn't be bothering her so much.

Salem's dismissal of Tyrian was smooth and vile like poison, and it was cruel. It caused Tyrian's mind to break even further, and it was cruel. Tyrian not only killed that Beowolf but he tortured it, mutilated it, mocked it, and it was cruel.

And it was scary.

But why was it scary? Why did it scare Cinder specifically? She had lost count of how many Grimm she had slain and how many she had seen slaughtered by others. From a young age she had killed and watched others kill. It never scared her. It enthralled her. Excited her. Made her feel powerful. No one could match her. No one was better than her.

When she killed the original Fall Maiden, wasn't that cruel? When she toyed with Ruby's feelings, wasn't that cruel? When she stole Pyrrha Nikos' life, pride, and power, wasn't that the cruelest of all? How could anyone perform a crueler act than what she had done?

How was it that seeing her ally kill a Grimm was what educated her on the truth of cruelty rather than her killing a seventeen year old girl?

Cinder clenched and unclenched her fist. She felt the Fall Maiden's power in her veins so the kill had been worth it, but... had it? Honestly, had it? What use had the power been to her so far? What had she used it to accomplish? Was it worth her eye? Her voice? Her arm? Her leadership?

Was it worth that girl's future?

Cinder's eyes widened at that intrusive thought. She wasn't sure why it entered her mind. She never worried about anyone but herself up until now and there was no reason to start over someone who was already dead.

"Cinder?" a voice murmured from the other side of her door followed by two soft, respectful, knocks.

The amber eyed woman blinked. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe there was one other person she worried about.

Cinder was about to call out to her subordinate when she remembered, just like every other time, that she couldn't. Instead she just stood there by the window, staring at the door, wondering how long Emerald would stay there before she would finally hear retiring footsteps.

A minute passed and so did another two knocks.

"Cinder, are you there? Are you sleeping?" Emerald's voice lowered a notch, as if it wasn't quiet originally. "I... I'll wait for thirty minutes. If you don't open your door by then, I'll leave."

The raven haired woman shook her head, amused for the first time that day. Maybe for the first time in awhile. Emerald wouldn't leave after thirty minutes. She would stay there until Cinder had to leave her room for something. There was one time Cinder remembered being particularly furious and she ignored Emerald all day, and when she finally left her room in the morning she found Emerald sleeping outside her door. She even brought a pillow and blanket with her. She had planned ahead knowing Cinder wouldn't let her in but wanted to stay as close as possible anyway. Even with all this anger, and fear, and humiliation, and weakness in the way, Emerald always wanted to be there.

Such a fool. Devoted to a fault.

Cinder manoeuvred to the door, glass heels clicking with each step, twisted the lock and swung it open. Emerald was clothed in her regular white top and brown pants, revealing much of her dark skin. Her arm was raised as if she were about to knock again before Cinder had revealed herself, and her other arm gripped the same blanket and pillow. Cinder made sure to stare at them before meeting Emerald's eyes, making the green haired girl blush.

"Just in case," Emerald muttered, shrugging. Her red eyes, the colour of blood, of potential evil but not true evil, rose back up to Cinder's face. A small, sad smile tugged at Emerald's lips. "You look more tired than usual, Ma'am, but as beautiful as ever."

Cinder felt her fingertips twitch. Emerald's devotion and loyalty was unparalleled, but normally she wasn't so forward with her compliments. When Cinder held power, Emerald would never have said something so direct to her.

Cinder glared at her because that's all she could do. She couldn't scold Emerald. It was impossible with her puffs of a voice. And she wouldn't hit Emerald, either. That would be cruel.

There was that word again. Why did it matter so much now?

Emerald shifted her weight under the glare, but didn't apologize, which was also different from all those times before.

Cinder gestured to Emerald, silently asking her to state what her business was. Emerald stood up a bit straighter in respect, in acknowledgement; it didn't matter because it made Cinder feel better, and the green haired girl tapped the pouch on her belt.

"It's been awhile since we've checked on your eye," Emerald stated, her voice firm at first but falling a bit shy as she continued. Red eyes dropped for a moment before they determinedly looked back to the older woman. "I'd like to take a look at it, if that's okay with you, Ma'am."

Cinder was about to interject, but Emerald quickly added, "I know you won't do it on your own."

A growl bubbled in Cinder's throat but she refused to release it to avoid Emerald the satisfaction of admitting she was correct. Emerald already knew she was right. It didn't have to be said aloud. Cinder never checked her eye on her own, because the longer she refused to check it the longer she would forget about it.

And sometimes she would forget about it long enough that she could pretend nothing was wrong.

Cinder stepped out of the way, letting Emerald pass by. She wanted to lock the door but instead she just stared out of it for a moment, seeing nothing but black at first before the dark colours of the hallway registered to her eye, but it might as well had just stayed black. Black was darkness. Black was evil. All evil. Everything outside this room was evil.

Did that mean everything inside it wasn't evil?

"Cinder?"

Right.

The black haired woman closed the door and locked it, holding it for a moment longer than necessary before turning to face Emerald. The young green haired woman was at her vanity, emptying her pouch of bandages, cloths, and creams all over the surface. Red eyes gleamed at her before a dark hand gestured for her to take a seat.

Cinder didn't move at first, preferring to stare out the window through the slit of her curtains instead. The destruction out there was more appealing than what she was about to see in the mirror.

"Please?" Emerald asked.

Normally that word meant nothing to Cinder. She didn't follow orders. She didn't listen to people's pleas.

But she adjusted her dress and sat on the stool anyway. She stared at Emerald's pleased smile in the mirror because nothing looked better.

"I'm going to remove your eyepatch now," Emerald said strongly. It wasn't a question, but despite the firmness Cinder knew that she could change Emerald's tone with just one word or one movement. But instead she did nothing. She just stared at Emerald until the younger girl's hands rose to her face, and then she stared at nothing.

Those dark-skinned hands were gentle yet hesitant, carrying a strong desire to feel Cinder but also didn't want to hurt her. Those hands wanted to please Cinder but also felt they didn't have the right to touch her. Cinder enjoyed the submission but detested being treated like a disabled, porcelain doll. She was a person. She was powerful. Someone like Emerald wouldn't even be able to dream of having the ability to hurt her.

Her thoughts must have unintentionally intensified her molten glare because Emerald shivered, her shoulders hunched up, her fingers worked a bit faster. The black eyepatch was pulled away, followed by dirty bandages, and the cool air of the room suddenly hit the flawed, sensitive flesh of her eye. Emerald bit her lip and adjusted herself so that her body would block Cinder's reflection in the mirror.

Red eyes gleamed with unshed tears as she gazed at Cinder. A shaky hand swept aside her raven bangs and a thumb trembled along her X-shaped scar. Emerald was staring at her like she didn't deserve it.

Why wouldn't Cinder deserve it? She was evil, wasn't she? It proved she was evil, didn't it? It proved she murdered the Fall Maiden's successor, didn't it?

Emerald didn't say anything, and looked away briefly to compose herself before she tended to Cinder's injury. It was uncomfortable, just like every time before. Fingers grazing over crusted wounds, skin twitching, collapsing in a crevice of flesh that shouldn't be there. It didn't hurt much anymore. But the emptiness, the feeling and lack of feeling, was uncomfortable.

The green haired girl gifted a generous amount of cream onto a cotton swab and gently dabbed it across her scar. It was cold. Too cold, but only because the rest of her skin was always warm. Cinder didn't want to focus on it so instead she focussed on Emerald, especially on the furrow of her eyebrows; the fierceness of her eyes; her determination to please. To not fail. To earn her continuation at Cinder's side even though such a goal would be laughable to everyone else. Mercury didn't care anymore. The only time Cinder saw him was when she called him to the meetings. But he no longer felt like hers.

Emerald was still hers. Emerald would always be hers. Those eyes would never look at Salem the same way they looked at Cinder.

Cinder frowned.

Eyes. Red eyes. Both Salem and Emerald had red eyes. The colour of blood. But their eyes were very different. Salem's held ruthlessness; a demand for death, destruction, and power. She was a demon in tainted human flesh. Emerald was nothing like her.

Emerald was mischievous, and rude, and selfish, but she wasn't evil. She could never be truly evil.

Green hair. White garments. Cinder stared at these features of Emerald for a long time, as if she hadn't already seen them for years. She wanted to memorize the colours, the softness, the features; how bright they were compared to everything else in this place. They were the only things not contaminated by this darkness. She was like a beacon trapped in a storm and Cinder was the only one who could see her.

Green. White. Green. White. Nature. Purity. Life. Light. The opposite of death. The opposite of darkness.

Emerald didn't belong here.

"It looks better than last time," Emerald announced softly. It was obvious she swallowed her whimper. "Not nearly as red. Just need to replace the bandage."

Emerald turned around to grab it but froze as Cinder's hand shot out and seized her wrist. "Ma'am?" Emerald questioned, gasping as Cinder started pushing her out of the way. "Ma'am, no!"

But Cinder already saw her reflection. Saw her hair swept out of her face. Saw her deathly pale skin, oily hair, a cloudy amber eye and her X-shaped scar lathered with an even layer of white cream. The eyelid wouldn't open. She didn't want to force it. She couldn't see with that eye anymore so it didn't matter what it looked like beneath the lid. There was no fixing it.

Forever scarred. Forever broken.

Emerald sank to her knees. "It's all Ruby's fault," Emerald growled, her voice containing a rage Cinder had never heard from her before. "That little bitch. I'll... I'll kill her! I swear that I'll—"

The green haired girl's words died in her throat as Cinder cupped her cheek, then nudged her chin upwards so her frantic red eyes would meet a stern amber orb.

"You're... not... like... me..." Cinder whispered, barely able to get the words out. Her throat burned, like she was breathing in volcanic black smoke. It itched, itched beyond the skin, and she wanted to rake her fingernails against it until all her flesh, all the muscle, all the annoyance was remedied, but instead she continued to speak because there was something she needed Emerald to know and she knew Emerald wouldn't believe the words from anyone else. "You're... not... evil..."

"Ma'am, please, don't force yourself to speak," Emerald said, hands coming to rest on Cinder's shoulders as if to push her away. "You're going to hurt yourself."

Cinder refused to accept that and pulled Emerald closer until the only thing in her vision were Emerald's scared, worried, loving red eyes. And then Cinder repeated herself.

"You're... not... evil..."

Cinder saw so much of her younger self in Emerald. So much. Her naivety, desire to please, lust for power. But if someone she trusted, someone who had meant something to her... honestly, maybe even a stranger, had told her that she wasn't evil, that her destiny wasn't to be evil, then maybe she would still have her eye, her arm, and her voice. Maybe so many more people would still be alive today.

But Cinder was evil. Salem was evil. And Watts, and Tyrian, and Hazel. Even Mercury had some evil in him. But not Emerald.

And when Salem finally got the power she wanted, the power to annihilate the four kingdoms, Cinder was prepared to use her power as the Fall Maiden to help Emerald escape. Salem would destroy everything and everyone in her path, ally or enemy, and regardless of being evil or not, Emerald's blood was not going to be on her hands.

"I... I'm going to put a bandage back on now, okay?" Emerald said shakily, rising back to her feet and fumbling with her medical supplies. Cinder sat still, a marble statue, as Emerald taped a fresh bandage gently over her eye and concealed it with her black mask, brushing the raven tresses back over the side of Cinder's face.

"There. Good as..." Emerald's words died in her throat, just like the light in her eyes as she looked down. "I almost used my Semblance just now. I didn't want you to see yourself, so I was going to let you see how you used to look. I know doing so would be disobeying you, but for a split second I just..." Emerald swallowed. Her voice was thick. "You've lost so much of the confidence you used to have, but I'm never going to see you as anything less than the powerful and influential woman who gave my life a purpose. I'm sure you could save so many more people. I wish you could see yourself like that again."

Cinder's throat felt dry. Drier than normal. She felt her tongue writhe in her mouth, as if trying to form a syllable but nothing made sense to say.

Save? Save people? Why would Cinder save people? Villains don't save people.

The very accusation that she performed an action that a villain wouldn't, an action that Emerald desired her to re-enact as if she had done such a thing before, should have made her furious. Should have made her eyes glow with fury and her skin dance with flames as she reminded Emerald of her place.

Instead she was just confused.

Emerald had just been a street rat. A street rat with an amazing gift, but still a street rat. She had potential. Cinder could use that potential. So Cinder took her in. Took her off the streets. She gave her food; a job; a home; an existence.

Did it count if you saved someone for your own gain? Would that classify as good or evil? Maybe somewhere in-between?

What is good?

What is evil?

If a good person does a good deed it is expected, but when they perform an evil deed suddenly everyone is questioning their morals. Suddenly it's as if they can't be trusted, regardless of all the good things they did before, as if that one evil deed was more important than every good deed combined.

Was the opposite true as well? Everyone expects evil people to perform evil deeds, but... what if they did something good? Could someone trust them because of that good deed? Could that good deed change their views of the world? Could that good deed be deemed more important than all the evil they unleashed before?

Could it help them realize that the evilest of evil people could never have performed that good deed... but lesser evil people could? Ones with even a smidge of light left in their hearts? A smidge of compassion? Of empathy? Those people could perform that good deed, even if it was only one. Even if it was the only one the world would ever recognize.

Cinder saw what she had done for Emerald as something evil. But Emerald saw it as the opposite.

Was Cinder evil? Was Cinder good? Was she something in-between? The answer should be so clear but the lines separating the categories were becoming thinner and thinner.

Did she want to be evil? Did she want to be good? She shouldn't get to choose. It doesn't matter how you think of yourself; it's how the world sees you. They decide based on your actions, your choices, whether you are good or evil.

Cinder wished such trivial things didn't bother her. As long as she was feared for her power and presence, that was all that should matter. But maybe other's opinions of her mattered so much because she didn't even fully understand herself. She used to have such control over herself and everything around her. Such power was enticing; addicting; intoxicating.

Now... now she was nothing.

But... wait. She was nothing? Why? Why was she nothing? Who decided that? Cinder, through her self-loathing? Ruby, through her mutilation of Cinder's body? Salem, through her overpowering evil?

Why did it matter? Even if someone did decide she was nothing, why should she care?

She was Cinder. The woman who craved power and the fear of others. The girl who killed her adoptive family to escape slavery. The woman who stopped at nothing to gain respect. The woman who did absolutely everything she could to reach the highest point in her life.

Now she was back to the lowest. Weakened, trapped, and humiliated by others.

But why should she care? Why should she let this stop her from rising to the top again?

Her eye twitched. It was uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt. It broke Cinder out of her thoughts and she became aware of Emerald's fingers still caressing her hair. The green haired girl must have spaced out as well because when she noticed Cinder's molten gaze focussed on her, she turned red and backed up several paces.

"W-Well," Emerald stammered, fumbling as she shoved her supplies back in her pouch and retrieved her blanket and pillow she had thrown to the floor earlier, "your eye looks fine, Cinder. I'll look at it again in a few days. If you need me, I'll..." Emerald shyly gestured to the pillow tucked under her arm. "Uh, yeah. Goodnight Ma'am."

As Emerald walked away Cinder was forcefully reminded of the vastness of her room. It was too open; too big. Too easy for her thoughts to roam. Trapped by Salem's chains and the shadows from a fractured moon in a crimson sky with no easy way to escape.

But Emerald made her room feel less big.

"Emerald."

The green haired girl froze reaching for the doorknob, looking over her shoulder at Cinder with a look the raven haired woman had never seen Emerald direct to her before. Cinder tried to ignore what that look did to her as she moved to her bed and sat down. She crossed one shapely leg over the other, hiking up her dress slightly, before undoing her action and sighing. She leaned over to carefully remove her glass heels, pretending like it wasn't an excuse to avoid Emerald's gaze for a few moments more, before she found something to say and looked back up.

"Stay?"

It wasn't an order. For the first time in her life, Cinder requested something from her subordinate. Something that made her feel vulnerable. Something that made her feel less evil.

Emerald's expression was conflicted, like she was trying to understand an alien word. An alien request. But there was hope in her eyes. Hope that she hadn't misheard. Hope that a form of progress was being made.

Cinder knew she wouldn't be able to speak again right now so she just patted the spot next to her. It was a request. An offer. Not an order. Not a command.

It didn't have to be, because she knew the result would be the same.

A pillow and blanket were forgotten on the floor and Emerald was trying to hide her smile as she abandoned her leather boots and nestled beneath Cinder's covers. Cinder hadn't seen Emerald this happy in... how long had it been? Years? Had it really been that long? Time was an illusion here. Everything always looked the same.

Cinder twisted to turn off her light, letting her entire room become encased in pure blackness. She blended in with this scenery, this energy. Black. Dark. Evil. At least she thought so. Did she hope so? Maybe, but she at least thought so. Everything else in the room blended in, too. It was too big for Cinder yet there seemed to be no room for anything else.

Then Cinder's eyes started adjusting to the darkness and the first thing she saw was Emerald's hair. Bright, pure, green hair. The hair of a girl who didn't belong here. Who wasn't evil enough to deserve being trapped here.

Cinder laid down and Emerald scooted over to give Cinder as much room as possible out of respect. Cinder didn't try to stop her. This girl loved her. This girl would do anything for her. It was pointless to try and stop her for she would just try harder to please next time.

Cinder reached for Emerald's hand under the covers, the hand that had nurtured her eye and stroked her hair, and loosely held it. It was obvious Emerald was struggling not to flinch or panic. This hand was a fascinating thing. It was soft, yet calloused from years of fighting and digging for scraps. It had stolen; it had cheated; it had fought against good just for the chance to caress evil. It had nurtured; it had healed; it held the ability to love.

When Cinder finally released Emerald's hand the green haired girl was biting her lip and she immediately flipped over to face away from Cinder. She looked a bit scared, but Cinder knew she was happy.

Had she held her hand because she knew it would scare Emerald or because it would make her happy?

It shouldn't matter. It was similar to what she had been asking herself all evening. Can she be considered good after murdering young women to gain power? Can she be considered evil after being terrified from an act of cruelty?

It shouldn't matter. But it still did. And she still didn't know the answers.

Cinder felt sleepless so she just stared at Emerald's back, thinking. Pondering. Tomorrow would be the same as today. Watts' insults, Tyrian's laugh, Hazel's indifference and Salem's domination would be the same. Cinder's questions would remain unanswered.

And Emerald would still see her as a goddess. Even through her weakness, her blemishes, her self-confidence issues, her complete shift from her earlier self... Emerald would stand by her.

That wasn't necessarily a good thing, but it wasn't bad, either. No one gains power without help. No one attains fear without followers. No one achieves ultimate evil alone. No one realizes their mistakes alone. No one performs that one good deed alone. No one can think too much when there's someone there to talk to. No one's lonely when someone's there for them.

Cinder blinked. Her eye was stinging again. She still couldn't tell which one. It didn't matter.

Nothing should really matter. Cinder couldn't change her past or decide her future, so all she could do was focus on the present. The present her was broken, disabled, and weak. But only because everyone, including herself, thought of her that way.

But she had stolen a lot of power, power she had never gotten to fully utilize because of her injuries, but they were there. She felt them spiking in her veins everyday, roaring with potential and a desire to be used and owned and governed. And eventually she would use them. She wasn't sure for what yet, and it didn't really matter. It didn't matter if she used it for revenge on Ruby, or in an attempt to overthrow Salem, or for vengeance against those who mocked her and said she wasn't strong anymore. It didn't matter if she used them to prove her level of evil; to remind the world of who she murdered to obtain it. It didn't matter anymore if the world feared her, respected her, or thought she was the evilest of all. It didn't matter if she was cruel, and manipulative, and did everything for personal gain.

None of that mattered. None of it. She could do the evilest act known to humankind and it still wouldn't matter.

Because when she stared at Emerald, the girl she saved, Cinder knew the only thing that really mattered was this:

There was one person in this world who would never see her as evil, and that was the cruelest of all.

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 **A/N: I had a lot of fun digging into broken Cinder's mind like this and I hope you all enjoyed reading it as well. Reviews are welcome and loved like always! :)**


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